Of Robots and Gummy Bears
by luckless-is-me
Summary: In which Tadashi isn't so great with kids and his boss' nephew holds his job in his tiny, four year old hands. (Or alternatively, the babysitter-AU that literally no one asked for). Not Related AU. Scenes in the Life of Tadashi (each chapter is complete, but related to previous chapters).
1. The Boy Who Doesn't Like Dragons

**Hello! So, this is... something? Uh, enjoy? **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this work. All characters belong to Disney/Marvel. **

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"_What?_"

Tadashi starts at the noise, the tray full of dirty glasses shaking in his hands as he tries not to trip, his sneakers catching against a tacky patch of spilled coffee. Carefully, he steadies himself against a table, anxiety leaping into his throat as he looks around the empty café. He's already wiped down the display case and cleared the tables, with the last of the glassware resting in his hands. All he has left to do now is the floors.

But what if he's not working fast enough? He's been trying his best, but he's so scared of breaking something, of getting fired. He's only been here for a week and he can't mess this up— he needs the money, even if it's not much.

Swallowing, he tightens his grip on the tray in his hands and marches into the kitchen. He nearly drops it again when he realizes that his boss is standing there, leaning against the counter with the phone pressed against her ear.

He didn't hear it ring.

Tadashi makes a move to back up, but she waves him forward, her face a little anxious. And he would be lying if he said he didn't like her. Cass— or Aunt Cass, as she liked to be called— was a really nice woman. Pretty too. She'd given him— sixteen year old, lanky Tadashi— a job when he'd been desperate and she'd even been willing to work around his weird hours, with him going to school during the day and visiting his mom in the hospital in the evenings.

Really. She was lovely.

"I know you really need— is there someone else you can call? You know I have," Cass makes a frustrated noise into the phone like she's been cut off as he sets the glasses down by the sink and begins washing them, careful not to let them slip in his hands because they might break and he doesn't know what he would do if he were to mess something up right in front of her. "I can't just leave Hiro here! He's _four_!"

One of the coffee mugs falls with a clank and his back straightens as the broken glass sinks into the soapy water. Oh, no. He broke it and Cass is still there and she already looks frustrated and—

"Fine!" The phone slams on the hook; Cass heaves a sigh.

"I," he starts, ready to apologize and offer to pay for it even though he can't afford it and it's just a glass, but she pats him on the back, suddenly right next to him, all green eyes and frizzy brown hair.

"Broken, huh," she snorts, peering into the sink. "I think that's one of the first ones I bought for this place. It's a wonder it made it this long."

Her tone is light and teasing, but he sways anxiously anyway. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she responds, bending down to turn the knob. The water begins to rush down the drain, soap and all. And he wasn't done yet. There are still dirty glasses sitting on the counter. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but Cass turns and smiles at him a little wearily. "You should go ahead and pack up," she says. "I just got a call from one of the suppliers. Their freezers are down and I'll have to go pick up the shipment tonight if I want it to be any good. There's no sense in you staying here all night waiting for me to get back so you can lock up."

"Oh," he blinks at her, shuffling a little uncomfortably on his heels, "okay."

She smiles at his back as he pulls his apron over his head and folds it into a neat little square. "Are you free again tomorrow night," she asks, just as he's grabbing his bag from under the cash register.

Tadashi grasps the strap of his bag, tightening his grip on it as he thinks it over. He has school tomorrow until three and then he'll visit his mom at the hospital until visiting hours are over at seven. He has a test in a few days that he needs to study for and there's a project due on Friday, but— the electric bill will be coming in soon and he's nearly out of groceries already. He can spare as much time as she needs. "Yeah— Sure. Of course. I can be here whenever you need me."

"If only all my employees were as reliable as you," she laughs, cocking her hip to the side. Her green eyes glance at the stairs leading to the upper level of the house and her face seems to fall. "Hiro is not going to be happy about this," she mumbles, mostly to herself.

And Tadashi vaguely remembers her mentioning a Hiro while she was on the phone, a four year old that's probably sleeping upstairs that she's about to have to wake up and drag to who knows where because it's nearly midnight and no one can find a sitter on such short notice. He straightens with a little jolt at the thought, because he's here right now and he's not the best with children, but he owes her a lot already. It's the least he can do. "Hiro? Is that your son?"

Cass hums a little, shaking her head. "Nephew," she corrects. "His parents died last year, so I'm looking after him."

He swallows, "Are you going to have to take him with you to your— your supplier?"

"Unfortunately," she shrugs. "He hates car rides."

"Umm," Tadashi shuffles a bit, fingering the strap of his bag, "I could stay and watch him for a little while— if you want, I mean. I was supposed to be here for another couple of hours anyway."

She looks at him peculiarly for a moment, with her jaw a little slack and he's scared that he's overstepped his bounds and that she doesn't want him near her nephew because she doesn't really know him and he's just some scrawny high school kid— but then she smiles, all wide eyed and round cheeked, "You know, Tadashi, that would be wonderful. Hiro needs to meet new people."

And then he's following her up the stairs into her home, a little scared to cross the threshold that separates her business from her living area, but when he steps into it, no one jumps out of the wall and pushes him away. Instead, he feels warm and pleasant, his bag heavy against his side. Everything smells like sweets and dark oak and he doesn't think he's every smelled anything better in his entire life.

"Hiro, sweetie," Cass calls, walking passed the little kitchen and into the living room. The television is on, playing some sort of cartoon about dragons— the colorful kind that teach children how to speak to their friends— and there's a shuffling mound of blankets on the couch. It takes Tadashi a moment to realize that it's a little boy and that he's wide awake. "I have to go out for a little while, but a friend of mine," she motions to him, "is going to stay here and look after you. His name's Tadashi and you need to be nice to him, okay?"

The little boy on the couch looks at him and blinks with the biggest pair of chocolate-colored eyes he's ever seen. Tadashi waves back and tries to smile, but Hiro doesn't seem to like it. He huffs with his little shoulders and pouts. "Wanna go wiff you."

Cass laughs a little, shaking her head. "It's late, sweetie, and you need to stay here so you can go to bed." She pets his hair a bit, as if she's trying to smooth out some of the knots, and rubs at his round little cheek. "Besides, you'll like Tadashi."

He swats her hands away and curls into the couch, his scrawny arms crossed over his chest. "I won't," he grumbles, completely sure of himself— and Tadashi feels like he isn't supposed to be here at all, but Cass seems to take his attitude in stride, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before grabbing her purse off the end table and slinging it over her shoulder.

She mumbles a quick good-bye to Hiro before coming up to him, giving Tadashi a reassuring pat on the back. "He's always like this," she explains. "He's already had dinner and a bath, so you're just going to have to put him to bed."

Cass says some other things too— emergency numbers and things of that nature— but he can't quite remember them and before long it's just him standing right off of the living room with his bag against his hip. Hiro is still curled into the couch with his arms crossed and his eyes trained on the television, but to Tadashi, he seems quite intimidating. He may be tiny, but he is his boss' nephew. If Hiro didn't like him, he was probably going to lose his job.

He gulps at the thought, shaking his head. Carefully, he walks toward the couch, sitting his bag on the carpeted floor. Quietly, he takes a seat at Hiro's feet. The boy doesn't look at him. "Hi," he tries. Hiro grunts a little in response, shuffling away, his big brown eyes still trained on the television that's illuminating the room. He seems interested in the way the colorful dragons are moving around on the screen and Tadashi hopes that's enough of a starting point. "Umm, do you like dragons…?"

Hiro huffs, looking down at him with a little scowl, "Dwagons aren't weal."

And despite the anxiety twisting in his gut, Tadashi laughs at the way Hiro's face scrunches in annoyance, the way his two front teeth are just far enough apart to slur his words. "But do you like them? You can like them even if they aren't real, can't you?"

"No," Hiro glares at him with all the force of the four year old he is, "I don't wike dwagons and I don't wike _you_."

Tadashi feels his eyes crinkle as he tries not to laugh. Hiro might have the power to get him fired, but right now, he just looks like a little kid that didn't get quite what he wanted for Christmas. And it's cute in a way he doesn't really understand. "Oh," he raises an eyebrow, "what _do_ you like then?"

The question seems to catch Hiro off guard and he stares at him for a moment, as if he's trying to figure him out. But apparently, he's not very interesting, because before long, the moment has passed and he's sulking back against the couch cushions. "I don't wike anyffing," he says smartly, turning his nose up at him.

And Tadashi really does laugh, the tension working its way out of his shoulders as he slides onto the couch like it's the most natural thing in the world. Hiro does not seem amused. "You have to like _something_. Everybody does."

Hiro doesn't say anything. Instead, he shuffles to the far end of the couch and brings his knees up to his chest. He huffs at him and narrows his eyes, his cute little mouth set in a pronounced pout.

It's probably the cutest thing he's ever seen.

Tadashi shifts so he can look at him a little better, his body positioned sideways on the couch with his elbow against the back of it. He catches sight of Hiro's fuzzy pajama bottoms and can't stop himself from grabbing the hem of it by the boy's ankle. There are little robots running up the leg. He smiles, "Do you like robots?"

Hiro blinks at him before pulling his leg away; Tadashi lets him. "Maybe," he scowls after some time has passed.

"Would you like to see one," he asks sweetly.

And he knows he has him with the way that Hiro's bottom lip seems to fall into his mouth, the way his almond-shaped eyes widen at him. But he's stubborn, so he crosses him arms with a grumbled, "_Fine. _If you want."

Shaking his head with a genuine smile stretched across his lips, Tadashi slides off the couch and positions himself in front of the coffee table, grabbing his bag and rummaging through it. He huffs when he doesn't immediately find what he wants and impatiently spills the bag's contents onto the wooden surface.

And there it is. The tiny little robot he'd built for his introductory robotics course earlier in the week. It isn't perfect or anything fancy, but it moves around with a little wind-up at its back and its feet light up when it walks— perfect for a four year old to play with.

He glances up at Hiro as he sets it upright on the table. He's still trying to pretend he's not interested with his arms at his chest and his lips set in a scowl, but his eyes are wide and he's leaning forward. And when Tadashi pulls at its back and it starts to move— Hiro's dropping off the couch and reaching for it. He stops before he can touch it, his dainty little fingers just inches away from its metal frame, his big brown eyes looking at him.

It takes Tadashi a moment to realize that he's asking him for _permission_ to touch it, and all he can do is nod at him and watch as he plucks it from the table and starts feeling all over it. All the stubbornness is gone from his features now, his little mouth quirked to the side, his eyes going over every inch of the robot he'd made for school.

After a while, Hiro sets it back on the coffee table and settles himself on the floor. He twists his fingers in his lap and looks at him, his eyes a little nervous and unsure now. "Can you… can you show me how you buiwt it?"

Tadashi starts at the question, at the nervous tone in Hiro's voice and the way he leans a little shyly against the table. It's late already— way later than most four year olds should be awake— but the way he'd asked so sincerely makes Tadashi's heart melt a little. And a few more minutes wouldn't hurt. "Of course. Do you want to try?"

Hiro smiles and nods at him, that endearing little gap between his teeth, and Tadashi can't help but smile back, rising up on his knees so he can reach across the table. When he does, his arm rustles the spilled contents of his bag, causing them to fall off of the other side of the table and crash against the carpet. Hiro looks at them for a moment before grabbing something from the bottom of the pile. He holds it up and blinks at it. "Whaw's dis?"

Tadashi grabs the little package from between his hands, shaking it a little. "Gummy bears. They're sweet," he explains. Hiro blinks at him, his head cocking slightly to the side. "Do you want to try one?"

The little boy nods at him, all inky black hair and big brown eyes. And Tadashi ignores the fact that it's way too late to be giving children sugar and gives him one.

But one turns into two and three and four— and it isn't long before the entire bag is gone.

When Cass returns home at four in the morning, they're both still awake and the robot is mostly screws and wires in front of them. Before Tadashi can explain himself, Hiro's bounding over to her on the balls of his feet and tugging at her hand with all the excitement the four year old can muster. "Dashi and me are buiwding a wobot!"

Cass blinks down at him and then glances at Tadashi, who hasn't moved from his spot on the floor by the couch. He smiles at her sleepily, tension pulling at his shoulders because there's no way he's not getting fired now. But, to his surprise, she just smiles, grabbing Hiro with both of her hands and lifting him up a little. He squeals. "Oh? You're building a robot?"

"Uh huh uh huh— dah wobot was Dashi's but he said I couwd webuiwd it," Hiro hastily exclaimed, pulling out of her arms and running back to the coffee table. He wrapped his little arms around the older boy's back, and Tadashi could just barely smell gummy bears on his breath as he leaned over him, his round cheek pressing against his own with his narrow little chin resting on his shoulder. "Dashi's nice," he announces, looking up at his aunt like he's telling her the greatest thing in the world. "I _wike _Dashi."

And Cass just laughs as his heart melts into a puddle of goo.

At least he's pretty sure he's going to be keeping his job.

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**And there you have it. The beginnings of a babysitter-AU that literally no one asked for (but me, because I wanted a little Hiro in fuzzy robot pajama bottoms and no one else gave it to me). **

**This story (or series on Ao3) is going to be a practice run. It's a practice in writing present tense, dialogue, and fluff- all of which I was awful at _before_ I stopped writing. As such, I would love to hear your thoughts on these things (and anything else you may find). **

**Also, as a note, the different chapters in this are going to be connected to one another, but there will be multiple years in between each update. So, there really isn't a definitive plot (I mean, there is, if you squint really, really hard, but~). As such, you can stop reading at any time and call this story complete. I say this because, while this story will stay as K+, this will eventually become a Hidashi fic (as in the ending two chapters: five and six) and I know that's not everyone's cup of tea. So, don't complain about it if it isn't yours; you've been duly warned. **

**Production: This story is all but complete on my computer right now (the last chapter isn't finished yet- or started, for that matter), so I will be posting every Sunday until it's complete. **

**Reviews are welcomed and responded to. I'd love to hear your thoughts. **


	2. The Boy Who Flatters

**Hello again. Happy reading~ **

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"There's my big college man!"

Tadashi smiles sheepishly, letting the café door fall closed behind him with a slight jingle of the bell. He shuffles a little nervously as he glances around the empty venue, the tables all cleared and the floor prepped for cleaning. Cass is leaning against the display case with her hip cocked to the side, a plate full of leftover doughnuts in her hands. She's smiling like she always is when she sees him— big and full with little creases around her eyes.

And he might not really work here anymore— because his college grants and his mother's life insurance keep him comfortable (though he's not so sure how he feels about the latter)— but he still feels hopelessly awkward when Cass swoops in to give him a hug, the plate of sweets held precariously behind his back as she squeezes his shoulders.

Still. It feels nice.

"Look at you," she says when she pulls away, hands gesturing to him, like that will somehow make him understand just what she sees. "You've gotten so big!"

He takes a step back, his mint green shoes squeaking against the floor because it was raining earlier and they're still a little damp. "Have I," he asks, though he knows what she means. It's only been a week and a half since he was here last, but he can see completely over her head now. He's had another growth spurt— hopefully his last because he doesn't like having to buy new jeans every two weeks.

"You have," Cass exclaims a little cheekily, setting the doughnuts to the side. "Wait until Hiro sees. He's going to be so mad." She laughs at that and Tadashi laughs along because Hiro's always complaining that he's getting taller and taller and he wants Tadashi to stop so he can catch up.

He keeps telling him that it doesn't quite work like that, but Hiro always pouts like he's slighted him with his growth and begs for gummy bears as retribution. It's silly and ridiculous— something expected from a seven year old— but Tadashi always lets him have his way. In fact, he's fairly certain that Hiro's bratty attitude has gotten worse with age instead of better, and it's likely all his fault.

"Speaking of— where is Hiro anyway," he asks once the laughter dies down, his coffee-colored eyes searching the café for the familiar mop of black hair and scrawny limbs. It's unusual for Hiro not to assault him as soon as he walks in the door. He normally only makes it a step or two inside before Hiro's tugging at his arms and begging to be picked up and thrown around, much to his aunt's dismay.

Cass scrunches up her face a little, her green eyes crinkling with something like worry. "He's upstairs. Hopefully sleeping. He came down with the flu sometime last night." She looks at him bashfully, quirking her mouth to the side, "I'm sorry I didn't let you know this morning. I don't want you coming down with it too— but he's been looking forward to this weekend and he did that thing— you know, with the pleading and the puppy-dog eyes? —and I just couldn't say no."

"It's fine," he says, jostling the bag at his shoulder when he lets his weight shift from one foot to the other, a genuine smile stretched across his lips. And really, it is. His immune system is more than capable of dealing with a little bug and it isn't like he's never been around a sick Hiro before. One particularly memorable occasion that occurred over a year ago involved Hiro vomiting a revolting combination of pizza and popcorn all over his lap; the public bathrooms at the fair were far better suited for cleaning Hiro's face than they were for cleaning his jeans. He shuddered at the memory, though more from the fact that Hiro had cried the entire time than the fact that it was gross. Nearly three full years into this babysitting gig and he still isn't very good with tears. "Besides, aren't you supposed to go to a convention in Richmond this weekend?"

She heaves a sigh, nodding a bit as she glances toward the stairs leading up to the second level. "Yeah— for some sort of bread exposition. Apparently, it's a crime to serve the wrong bread and soup combinations," she snorts. "I still don't know if I should, though, with Hiro sick. I don't like leaving him here."

"I'm sure it'll be fine. I'll be here all weekend— besides, you won't be that far away and I'll call you if anything out of the ordinary happens."

Cass laughs again, running her hand through her hair. It's frizzing up again— from the humidity outside and the stress of running a business with a small child running around on the second floor. "I guess you're right. He tends to prefer you to me these days anyway."

And he wants to respond to that— though he's not entirely sure of what he wants to say— but she's already grabbing the plate of doughnuts off the nearby table and waving him toward the second floor as she starts off toward the kitchen. "Feel free to head on up. I still have some cleaning to do down here and then some last minute packing upstairs. Help yourself to the leftovers in the fridge if you're hungry— and Hiro's up in his room if you want to check in on him. He'll be happy you're here already."

He blinks at her retreating back for a minute before hoisting his bag a little farther up onto his shoulder and making his way upstairs. While he used to be apprehensive about moving around the Takachiho household, almost three years of running around the second and third floors after Hiro in impromptu games of tag and hide-and-go-seek have made him more than familiar with the building's layout. He's comfortable here— far more at home here than he is in his own empty house.

Bypassing the second floor landing, he tiptoes up the remaining stairs into the attic space, his body sagging heavily against the frame where he knows Cass wants to have a door installed soon. The room before him— large and bright, despite the looming rain clouds outside— is a wreck, with toys scattered here and there and pillows littering the floor. The bed, which he is sure was once impeccably made, is ruffled and the blankets are more on the floor than on the bed. Those that are still clinging to the mattress are twisted into a mound.

He's sure Hiro's under there somewhere.

And he's not wrong, because the mound is wiggling around and a matted mop of inky black hair is pushing its way out of it, followed by big almond-shaped eyes, rosy red cheeks, and that wide, gapped tooth smile he's more than accustomed to. "Dashi!"

Tadashi laughs, pushing himself off the empty doorframe and walking into the room. He makes it to the bed just as Hiro manages to completely free himself from the blankets wrapped around his skinny frame— and then his lap is full of Hiro, that mop of hair tucked under his chin, his buttoned nose pressed against his throat. He's a little warm— the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead a clear indication of fever— but he seems well enough.

"Hey, you," he greets and Hiro preens in his arms, straightening himself up to look at him. His cheeks are a little flushed and his nose is bright red, but he's smiling, scooting around in his Godzilla printed pajama bottoms. Tadashi's a little upset that he outgrew the robot ones; he liked those.

"Did you bring me gummy bears?" Tadashi laughs at the question, at the way Hiro leans over to start rummaging through his bag for them without the slightest hesitation. The colorful bears are Hiro's favorite treat and he always makes sure to bring him some.

He pouts when Tadashi scoots his bag away, closing it off from searching little fingers, his nose scrunched. Tadashi just pushes him upright again, feeling his forehead with the back of his hand. Hiro begrudgingly lets him, using his palms to keep himself upright. It's warm, just as he suspected, but it's not as bad as it could be. "How are you feeling? Aunt Cass said you were sick."

Hiro swats his hand away, lifting himself onto his knees so that he's Tadashi's height. "I feel _great_," he says, all wide-eyes and pronounced cheeks. And Tadashi knows he's lying, because immediately afterwards he asks, "Can I have gummy bears now?"

Tadashi laughs, pushing his bag off of the bed and laying back against the mattress. Hiro falls along with him, stubbornly reaching for his bag again, but he grabs his hand and holds him in place by his hips. Hiro knows he's not allowed to have sweets when he's sick and the scowl on his face is priceless, his lips pursed and his eyes narrowed, but the rumble of Tadashi's laughter seems to appease him, his stomach moving him up and down with short, jiggling movements.

"Maybe in the morning," Tadashi mumbles, rubbing up and down Hiro's back; he's far thinner than he needs to be, but he's a picky eater and no amount of trying on his part has managed to fatten him up, "after some breakfast. How does that sound?"

Hiro groans, snuggling into his chest, his hands twisting in his cardigan. He wore the green one today, because Hiro likes to steal his clothes to play dress up and this one is his softest and the buttons are the easiest for Hiro to maneuver. "But that's so far away," he whines, rubbing his snotty nose against Tadashi's shirt.

Tadashi makes a little huffing sound, his eyes crinkling at their corners, not really caring about the mucous that he is sure will take ages to scrub out of his clothes. It would be fine; it's not like he hasn't done it before. Carefully, he moves so they're lying vertically on the bed, with Hiro mumbling against his chest as he wrestles with the blankets in an attempt to cover them.

He doesn't do the best job because his feet are still hanging out at the end— and he forgot to take his shoes off— but Hiro looks content enough, sliding off his chest to burrow into the crook of his arm. "You're the best," he breathes into his clothed skin, his voice a little muffled from his runny nose and the blankets that nearly hide him from Tadashi's view.

Tadashi smiles into his matted hair, oddly flattered as he kisses the top of his head. "Oh, really? Better than Aunt Cass?"

His tone is light and teasing, but Hiro nods against him furiously, twisting around to glance at him with serious doe brown eyes. "Absolutely! The best _ever_!"

"I don't know about that," he says, letting his head fall back against Hiro's pillow. "She makes excellent cookies."

Hiro purses his lips together as if he's mulling it over— the benefits of Aunt Cass's cookies against Tadashi's mere presence. Eventually, he seems to decide with a little shake of his head. "No," he declares against his chest, "Dashi's the best. Dashi's my favorite person in the whole wide world and one day, we're gonna get married so we can always— _always_— be together."

Tadashi blinks at the declaration, taking in the sick little bundle in his arms before he starts to laugh, long and hard. His grip tightens around Hiro's skinny frame as the boy squirms in his arms, propping himself up on his elbows to look at him with narrowed brown orbs, seemingly offended by Tadashi's laughter. And Tadashi stops at the look in his eyes— the stubbornness and the determination that he's only used to seeing when Hiro really, _really _wants something and isn't willing to stop until he gets it.

"Just you wait," he says, jutting out his chin in defiance, "I love Dashi the most— and we're gonna get married when I grow up, so you'd _better_ wait for me." And with that, he drops back into the crook of his arm, huffing as he snuggles under the blankets.

It's sometime later when Tadashi finally lets his words hit him, when Hiro's already asleep, nestled against him with panting little breaths pressing against his clothes. And somehow, it's okay. There are worse things than having a seven year old declare their love for you.

Besides, he'll grow out of it eventually.

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**And thus we have part two. Isn't little Hiro adorable? (In more fuzzy pajama bottoms because I'm shameless.)**

**I'm still practicing with present tense and dialogue, so I would love to hear your thoughts on these things (and anything else you may find). I really struggled with the present tense in this work and I definitely caught myself slipping up multiple times, so please let me know if any past tense made it into the final product (though some sentences are supposed to be past tense, so... I̶'̶m̶ ̶s̶o̶r̶r̶y̶).**

**Production: The last section of this still isn't finished (started though, finally), but I will be keeping to my schedule of posting every Sunday until it's complete. Expect the next update on the 29th. **

**Reviews are welcomed and responded to. I'd love to hear your thoughts!**


	3. The Boy Who Tells a Lie

**Happy Sunday!**

**So, a little warning before you read on: this was supposed to be fluffy. 'Supposed to be' being the operative part of that. And yeah… it's not. (I̶'̶m̶ ̶s̶o̶r̶r̶y̶.̶)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this work. All characters belong to Disney/Marvel.**

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Tadashi nibbles on the inside of his cheek, his fingers drumming impatiently against the handlebars of his moped as he waits by the sidewalk, just out of the way of the cars streaming in and out of the drop off bay. There are teenagers everywhere, streaming out of the main building of the high school in front of him, stepping into their parent's cars with mumbled greetings, filing with their friends to the nearby buses. Several people glance his way. A couple of girls send him flirtatious smiles and little waves; numerous teachers watch him like he doesn't belong there at all.

And he supposes that he really doesn't with his San Fransokyo Institute of Technology backpack balanced precariously on the back of his vehicle and his _Ninjas_ baseball cap tied to the handlebars. He is not a student, nor is he a parent. To them, he probably looks like some creepy twenty-three year old hanging around a high school ready to kidnap someone.

He groans at the thought, running his hand through his hair— because he really is here to kidnap someone (with their guardian's consent, of course). Cass had called him sometime between his first and second class because she was worried about how Hiro was doing and thought that he would be able to help in ways that she couldn't. Which may or may not be true. The sweet little boy that used to beg him for gummy bears at five and just one more movie before bedtime at eight grew into a sullen eleven year old that barely talks to him on his good days.

Not that Tadashi can really blame him for that.

He'd been pretty good about making it to the café when he had first started college. He made time for little outings to the park and trips to the museum once a month. He helped Cass schedule sleepovers and holiday celebrations. He had tried really hard to stay in touch and to be there— because Cass and Hiro were pretty much his family now— but once he'd started working on his robotics portfolio in his second year, he'd started to fall behind and things had just gotten out of hand from there. He was always swamped with work.

And he just didn't have as much time for Hiro anymore.

These days, Tadashi considers himself lucky if he manages to stop by and see him once or twice a month. He sincerely regrets his lack of free time, especially since Hiro stopped greeting him with hugs and declarations of love. Though, he supposes that this is normal; Hiro had to grow up eventually. But it still hurt when Hiro quit asking if he'd brought him gummy bears, when he'd stopped stealing his hat and running down the street with it.

It hurt even more when he'd stopped responding to his presence at all.

Tadashi sighs a little wistfully, glancing toward the double doors that lead into the high school. Most of the students have already filed out, but there's still a steady trickle of them coming through the doors and there are still a couple of parents waiting at the bay. School's been out for a little while now and he's a little scared that Hiro saw him waiting and boarded one of the buses in an effort to avoid him— because Hiro sometimes does things like that— but then he sees him step through the double doors. He's swimming in his blue hoodie and he's folded in on himself to the point of disappearing beneath his backpack, but he's undeniably Hiro.

He smiles a little at the sight, because even if Hiro doesn't look particularly happy, seeing him unhappy is somewhat better than not seeing him at all. "_Hiro_," he calls, waving from his spot beside the sidewalk.

The boy in question jumps, tensing and twisting around like someone's out to get him before those almond-shaped eyes of his glance his way. Hiro scowls at the sight of him, and it's not nearly as cute as it used to be.

"Hey, you," he greets when Hiro stomps over to him, smiling somewhat awkwardly with his fingers still drumming against the handlebars.

Hiro shifts at his heels, his brown eyes narrowing as he tightens his grip on his backpack's straps. "If you're here to take me to therapy, I'll scream and get you arrested for attempted child abduction."

Tadashi blanches at the heated threat, blinking and sitting up a little straighter. And while Cass had informed him on the phone that she'd recently tried enrolling him in counseling sessions that he's been refusing to attend, he hadn't expected that kind of greeting. Or that glare. "I'm not here to take you to therapy," he responds honestly.

Hiro crosses his arms like he doesn't believe him, glancing back at the teachers loitering outside the building before returning his eyes to the moped. Tadashi smiles at him and he sighs, deflating. "Then why are you here exactly?"

"To spend time with you," he tries, grabbing the extra helmet at his side and offering it to him.

The boy takes it with a disdainful scoff, moving it around in his hands with one eyebrow raised before putting it on his head. "Somehow, I doubt that."

"Don't be like that," Tadashi mumbles, leaning forward to help with the chin strap only to have his hands swatted away as Hiro starts to do it himself, his lithe little fingers unused to the material and fumbling with it. Sighing, he pulls back, quirking his mouth to the side, "Look, I'm free all afternoon. We can do anything you want to do."

Hiro finally manages to put the helmet's clasp in place, his arms once again crossing at his chest. He looks at him for a moment, all big brown eyes and tight lips. Tadashi opens his mouth after a while, like he's going to say something— though he has no idea what _to_ say— but Hiro cuts him off with a little sigh, clumsily climbing onto the bike. "Can we just— umm," he starts, his voice a little muffled by the helmet, and while he can't see him, Tadashi can feel his fingers anxiously knotting in the fabric of his jacket, "Can we just go to the park? The one downtown that we used to go to?"

Tadashi twists to the side so he can see him over his shoulder. The helmet's a little big on him and it slides down his forehead more than it should, pushing his hair into his eyes; he smiles at the sight. "Sure. We can go there. Do you want to get dinner while we're out? In a couple of hours, I mean."

Hiro glances away from him, his mouth set in a scowl as he adjusts his backpack. "Whatever," he says.

And Tadashi just assumes that's the end of the conversation, his smile drooping a bit as he faces forward again and begins to ease the vehicle into the schoolyard traffic. Almost everyone is gone now— with the exception of the disapproving teachers that are glaring at him from the front of the building— and it's easy enough to merge with the automobiles beyond the school's borders, even with the extra weight clinging to his back.

The park— a small, green nook in the middle of downtown that's more of a Japanese garden than a playground for kids— isn't very far away from Hiro's school, but the ride there seems to take forever with the moped jerking to a stop in the heavy traffic every few minutes. He's not used to driving with a passenger, so he takes extra precautions to make sure that Hiro isn't thrown from the bike. He slowly comes to a stop at red lights; he eases them into the turns.

He tries, but it isn't a smooth ride. And as soon as he parks, Hiro jumps off of the bike as if he's been burned, stumbling a bit as he does.

"Has your driving always been that bad," he asks, and despite the scowl that still stretches across his lips, he sounds a little more like the Hiro he's used to now. The atrocious state of his hair when he yanks off the helmet sends a horrible wave of nostalgia through Tadashi's gut.

But he pushes it away with a shake of his head, removing his own helmet with far more grace. "Probably," he responds cheekily, dismounting the moped and grabbing his backpack off the back. The weight of it puts him a little off balance, but he's used to the feeling.

"Unbelievable," Hiro huffs through his nose.

Tadashi's not entirely sure of what to say next— because eleven year old Hiro is far more difficult than his younger predecessors— so he just motions for him to follow him down the stone path that leads to the center of the gardens. Hiro falls in step with him easily, and it's almost like Tadashi remembers it being. When Hiro was younger, he used to bring him here all the time. They would walk around and around the path until Hiro was too tired to walk anymore, and then they would find a seat near the koi pond and Hiro would count the fish.

Except, it isn't the same because Hiro used to pull on his arm or run on ahead until Tadashi was sure he'd never manage to catch up with him— and he doesn't do any of that now. Instead, he just stays at his side, his gaze tilted downward and his mouth set in that increasingly familiar scowl.

So, they just walk. They walk along the path, side by side, until they've passed most of the flower gardens and are coming up on the pond at the center of the park. And Tadashi isn't sure what to say or what to do. Cass asked him on the phone to figure out what was going on with him— because she's worried about him and nothing she tries seems to work— but Tadashi isn't very confident in his ability to do that. Hiro didn't exactly greet him with open arms, and he's been drifting away from him for years anyway.

He's just the babysitter that Hiro doesn't really need anymore.

Hiro steps off the path at the edge of the pond and tosses his backpack to the ground before throwing himself down beside it. He crosses his legs and looks up at him expectantly with one thick black eyebrow raised. Tadashi shuffles awkwardly from foot to foot, and Hiro just sighs, his shoulders hunching inward as he runs his hand through his hair.

"So," he starts, letting the word fall off his tongue, "why exactly are you here?"

Tadashi blinks at him. Carefully, he lowers his bag to the ground and takes a seat in front of him. "I told you already— to spend time with you."

Another derisive little snort, "We both know you wouldn't be here if my Aunt hadn't called you or went to see you or— or _whatever_ she did. So, spill it. What is this little outing supposed to accomplish? I have a test tomorrow and I _don't_ want to be out here all afternoon."

Hiro doesn't say if he'll be studying for that test— and Tadashi's under the distinct impression that he won't be— but he's pretty sure Hiro just doesn't want to be around him right now and needs an excuse that will appeal to his 'good student' ethics to get him to take him home. This is not how Tadashi wants this conversation to go.

But he supposes that it's a good enough a place to start as any.

"Aunt Cass _did_ call me," he begins; Hiro rolls his eyes and looks away. "She's worried about you." He doesn't add that he is too, because he's under the impression that that's not something that Hiro wants to hear.

"There's nothing for her to be worried about. I'm _fine_."

"You're fine?" His eyebrow rises suspiciously. Hiro turns back to glare at him. "You don't seem fine."

"I said I'm fine so I'm _fine_," he stresses. He crosses his arms over his chest; his sleeves are just baggy enough to reveal a tiny strip of skin when the fabric bunches around his wrists.

Tadashi tilts his head to the side before letting out a long, drawn out sigh. "Okay," he says, his voice easy, backing off already because he doesn't like making Hiro mad and he can already see his jaw beginning to clench, his knuckles turning white. He wants to know why Hiro's so defensive— what's _actually_ wrong with him— but he knows that this isn't the best way to go about it. Hiro doesn't like being cornered. And Tadashi knows he'll have to angle his questions a little differently if he wants them answered honestly— or at all, for that matter.

Hiro blinks at him skeptically, "Okay?"

"Okay." He opens up his bag and pulls out one of his binders, flipping it open nonchalantly as he props it up in his lap. "If you don't want to tell me, that's fine. We can just sit here, I guess."

Hiro's jaw drops for a moment before he snaps it closed, his bottom lip falling between his teeth as he nibbles on it. He stares at him for several seconds, all big brown eyes and sharp little chin, before shaking his head and lying out on the ground, flipping onto his stomach and facing out toward the pond. "Whatever," he finally says.

For a while, Tadashi doodles on the blank pages of his binder— random robot designs, his friends and their portfolio projects— and watches Hiro work on some of his schoolwork. He smiles at the way Hiro fidgets around on the ground, twisting this way and that as he tries to get comfortable, his math textbook stretched out in front of him. It's cute in that little kid way he's used to— because no matter what age he is, Hiro can't seem to stay still. He tilts his head to the side to see him at a slightly better angle, but when he does, he catches sight of something that makes his heart lurch, the gears in his head set in motion as Hiro brings the tip of his pencil to his temple, his sleeve slipping down to his elbow.

There's a bruise wrapped around his arm. It's shaped like a hand.

"Hey, Hiro," he tries, swallowing thickly, "do you like school?"

Hiro shrugs his shoulders stiffly, his elbows planted on the ground as he turns his head to look at him. "It's boring. The classes are too easy."

"We can't all be geniuses," Tadashi chuckles weakly in response, pushing his binder to the side. He feels sick to his stomach. "What about your classmates? Do you like them?"

He makes a face, scrunching up his nose, his lips pressing together, "They're okay, I guess."

"You guess?" And he's never really thought about it before, but it really must be hard, being an eleven year old sophomore. Hiro's already in the tenth grade and he's small for his age. Everyone else must tower over him.

"Yup." He pops the 'p,' twisting his pencil between his fingers

"So, you don't—," he cuts himself off, biting at his cheek in an attempt to find the right words. The ones that won't make Hiro angry, but won't cause him to lie either. "So, you don't have any problems with them? Your classmates?"

"No." It sounds like a question with Hiro setting his pencil down in the fold of his textbook and glancing up at him uneasily.

Tadashi inhales slowly and reaches forward. His hand dwarfs the bruise on his arm, wrapping around it and covering it completely. Hiro gasps, abruptly sitting up and pulling his arm away, his sweater sleeve falling over it, hiding the evidence. He bites at his lower lip and his cheeks tinge pink as he looks away, breathing heavily in that anxious way of his.

Tadashi knows that he should shut this down right now, because he's more than aware of the fact that Hiro's prone to panic attacks and that he could easily trigger one— but he's angry. He's angry at whoever caused the bruise— a teenager, based on the size of the handprint. Someone who's probably twice the size of Hiro, who would have had to have grabbed him with the _intention_ of hurting him to leave a mark that obvious. He's angry at the teachers who obviously didn't do anything about it.

And he's angry at Hiro— for not telling him and insisting that everything's just fine.

"Who did that," he tries to keep his voice steady, but it comes out gruff and heated. Hiro hunches his shoulders; he doesn't say anything. "Hiro," he huffs, reaching forward and grabbing him by the forearm, literally dragging him closer, his grip light enough to keep from hurting him but firm enough to keep him in place. The boy in question squeaks and squirms against him. "_Who did that?_"

"No one!" Hiro presses against his chest with his palm; the crown of his head bumps against the underside of Tadashi's chin.

But Tadashi just grits his teeth and tightens his grip. "_Hiro!_"

The name comes out as a yell and Hiro stills, flinching in his arms. His chest heaves up and down, those big brown eyes of his wide and glistening— his chest is moving just a little too fast, his breathing on the cusp of a full blown panic attack.

Tadashi pulls away as if he's been burned, dropping Hiro's arm and scooting as far away as he comfortably can. He feels nauseous, and he's suddenly glad that dusk is approaching and there's no one else in this part of the park. Because he's a grown man that just attacked a child.

He puts his head in his hands and breathes against his palms. He messed up. And Hiro's an infuriating kid half the time, but he's still just a kid. There was no reason for him to react like that. Tadashi glances up through his fingers once his breathing evens out and the tension leaves his shoulders.

Hiro's curled up where he let him go, his sneakers twisting in the grass, his chin resting on his knees. He looks okay, and he's staring at him, those doe-like eyes of his as wide as always. They blink at each other— and Hiro's the one to look away, his eyes glazing a bit as he stares out at the pond. "Sorry," he says.

He sounds small; Tadashi's gut twists. "No— no, I shouldn't've— gaah," he makes a hopeless sort of noise, running his hand haphazardly through his hair; Hiro breathes a little laugh and somehow, that makes him feel better. "I'm sorry. That was… out of line. God, just— why didn't you say anything?"

Hiro shrugs, all skinny shoulders and knotted black hair.

He sighs, "We should— I'll go with you to the principal's office in the morning and—"

"No."

"No? Hiro, you can't just let them—"

"_No_, Tadashi," he stresses, uncurling and letting his legs fall open as he leans forward. "It'll just make it _worse_."

"But," he grimaces, shaking his head. The thought of just letting it go leaves a nasty taste in his mouth, but one look at Hiro's pleading eyes has him deflating and giving in. "We should at least tell your Aunt," he compromises. "She's worried about you. She'll feel a little better knowing what's going on."

Hiro pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and stares down at the grass. "I don't wanna have to tell her."

"I'll tell her," he offers, leaning forward to ruffle his hair. It's oddly rewarding when Hiro lets him. "Okay? I'll tell her so you don't have to?"

He glances up at him through his messy fringe. And Tadashi's not quite sure of the emotion he sees in his eyes— something between sad and grateful— but he glances back down at the grass before he can figure it out. "Okay."

* * *

Tadashi keeps him out until sometime after ten. He buys him dinner from a ramen joint downtown that has robotics murals on the walls and he takes him to one of those horrible monster movies that he absolutely adores. He showers him with sweets and keeps him running around and talking until he's all caught up on everything that's going on in Hiro's life.

By the time they get back to the Lucky Cat Café, Cass is the only one still downstairs and Hiro's dead on his feet. Cass smiles at them when they come in and kisses them both on the cheek before sending Hiro upstairs because he has school in the morning and he really should have been in bed already.

Tadashi watches him go. And then he settles in to explain to Aunt Cass that everything is not as alright as it should be.

Because Hiro's in for another two and a half years of this and he's not so sure he's okay with that.

* * *

**And thus we have part three. Hiro's a little more… angry(?) in this one. He gets harder and harder to write as he gets older.**

**I'm still practicing with present tense and dialogue in this section, so I would love to hear your thoughts on these things (and anything else you feel like bringing to my attention; there's bound to be something in here). I also tried used this for a bit of movement practice (going from the school to the gardens, walking around the gardens, etc.) so I hope that came out okay.**

**Production: The last section of this still isn't finished (b̶e̶c̶a̶u̶s̶e̶ ̶H̶i̶r̶o̶ ̶h̶a̶t̶e̶s̶ ̶m̶e̶), but expect the next section to be up on April 5th.**

**Reviews are welcomed and responded to! I'd love to hear your thoughts!**


	4. The Boy Who Surprises

**Happy Easter!  
**

**A little warning before you read on: There are a lot of movie references/reworked movie quotes in this. I went a little... overboard. ****(̶I̶ ̶h̶a̶v̶e̶ ̶a̶ ̶p̶r̶o̶b̶l̶e̶m̶ ̶o̶k̶a̶y̶)̶**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this work. All characters belong to Disney/Marvel. **

* * *

"Okay, okay— so no shrink ray and no formulas that can turn me into a fire-breathing lizard at will. I can live with that. But come on, the invisible sandwich? That's totally science!"

Tadashi laughs at the way his friend twists wildly in his seat, one of his eyebrows rising skeptically. "I don't think it is, Fred."

"No, it totally is!" Fred leans forward, his grungy shirt rumpling around his midsection. "Imagine eating a sandwich," he says, his blue eyes wide and jubilant, "but everyone just thinks you're crazy." He lifts his hands up as if he is holding a sandwich and takes a bite, chomping with his jaw for added effect.

"Just stop," Wasabi groans next to him, leaning forward and putting his head in his hands. "You've been on that for six years and it's _still_ not science."

"Aww, come on!" Fred straightens, kicking his white and green sneakers against the coffee table; several glasses threaten to topple over at the action. "You never like any of my ideas!"

"Because they're not science," Wasabi moans miserably, glancing at Tadashi out of the corner of his eye as if to say '_Help me.'_

"You're on your own, man," Tadashi responds with a grin, grabbing his empty beer bottle and standing from the couch. He stretches and rolls his shoulders, letting out a content sigh at the sensation of his back popping before moseying into the kitchen and leaving Fred and Wasabi's good-natured squabbling behind.

GoGo nods at him as he approaches the threshold. He smiles back at her, despite the fact that she's sitting on the island in the middle of the room and his mother would certainly not be pleased if she were still alive. But it's fine, because she _isn't_ still alive and this is his house now, even if he's refused to change anything since she's been gone.

"Found it!" Honey Lemon stands up from behind the counter, holding up a sheet tray triumphantly. GoGo raises an eyebrow at her, but Honey just brushes it off, setting the tray on the counter before bouncing over to the fridge.

"What're you making," Tadashi asks, stepping into the room to throw his empty beer bottle into the recycling bin.

Honey jumps, spinning around on her heel, her sock-clad feet sliding on the linoleum. She laughs once she realizes it's him, green eyes bright. "We're making cookies," she exclaims, grabbing the gallon of milk and carton of eggs.

"No, _you're_ making cookies," GoGo corrects. She leans back on her palms, her fingerless leather gloves sticking to the laminate. Honey pouts at her, her bottom lip sticking out. The effect is somewhat ruined by the way she bounces from foot to foot.

"Then what are _you_ doing," he asks, plopping into one of the stools on the other side of the island.

GoGo twists to look at him since he's at her back now, her dark brown eyes slightly narrowed. "Watching Honey make cookies," she deadpans. Her bubble gum pops between her lips.

Tadashi laughs and settles in, slumping forward to rest his head in the crook of his elbow on the countertop. For the next several minutes, he sits, tapping his foot against the floor while he watches Honey bustle about his kitchen. She's been here numerous times before, and she certainly knows where everything is, if the way she comfortably goes from cupboard to cupboard is any indication of her familiarity with the layout. In fact, he's fairly convinced she knows where more things are in his kitchen than he does. She's certainly spent more time cooking in it over the last several years than he has.

He sighs a little wistfully at the thought, tilting his head slightly to the side so he can see Honey at a better angle. Tadashi did not inherit his mother's culinary skills. He's more than a little upset by that, but he can't change the fact that he doesn't like to cook and he can't remember his mother's okonomiyaki recipe for the life of him. He does like to watch people cook, though. And the way Honey Lemon buzzes around his kitchen like it's her mission always brings a smile to his face.

"Uh, Tadashi?"

"Yeah?" He pulls himself up questioningly at the apprehensive tone, turning his attention away from Honey to the doorframe. His eyes narrow slightly in confusion; Wasabi's face is pale.

"Someone's on your front porch."

Tadashi starts at that, frowning as he glances at the clock over the stove. It's after midnight already and the people that are currently roaming around his house are the only company he'd expected tonight. Still, though. It isn't entirely unheard of for one of the underclassmen to drop by in the middle of the night in need of help with one of their projects that's due at the crack of dawn; he put his address on the syllabus for a reason.

It's probably nothing.

"Okay," he says, standing. "Best go see what they want then."

Wasabi makes a face at him. Honey stops stirring the cookie dough, the bowl held tightly against her side. "I don't think that's such a good idea," she starts.

"Yeah, man. You should probably call the cops."

Wasabi reaches for the phone on the wall, but Tadashi stops him with a shake of his head, sliding passed him into the living room. He can feel GoGo's eyes on his back, but she doesn't say anything as he rounds the corner. He bypasses the living room and walks into the hallway that leads to the front door. It's old and the paint is beginning to chip off in places, but Fred doesn't seem to mind, leaning against it to look through the peephole.

Tadashi comes to a stop a few feet away, crossing his arms over his chest in amusement. "What are you doing?"

"Shh," Fred whispers, looking back at him with his wide blue eyes, "They're still out there."

"Okay…? Shouldn't we see what they want then, since they're not going away?"

Fred blinks at him before going back to the peephole. Tadashi knows it's too dark out there for him to really see anything; he's been meaning to fix his porch light for weeks. "We have to tread carefully. It could be a vagrant or a robber or a _super villain_. How cool would that be? I mean, it'd be scary, obviously, but how cool!"

Tadashi lets out a quiet snort at that. Fred seems more than excited by the prospect, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. "So, what's the plan?"

"I say we open the door and run out— guns blazing! All of us! That'll definitely scare them away."

He leans against the wall, one inky black eyebrow raised, "What if they don't need to be scared away? And no guns."

Fred makes an exasperated sort of noise, twisting around to stare at him, "Fine, fine. Just you and me then. We run outside yelling on the count of three. Okay?" Tadashi nods slightly, bemused. "Okay! One—" Fred puts his hand on the doorknob, "Two—" The knob twists in his hand, "Three!"

He swings it open with a yell and runs through it, his sneakers thundering on the rickety wooden boards. The frightened yelp that comes seconds later has Tadashi running through the door for an entirely different reason.

"_Hiro!_"

Said boy is sitting on the porch swing, his knees drawn to his chest and his arms raised to protect his head. Fred is standing slightly off to the side, frowning lightly. He appears to have stopped yelling as soon as he realized the intruder was a child. "Not a super villain," he says to Tadashi.

Tadashi lets out a long sigh, running his hand down the side of his face. "No, no he's not." Hiro seems to perk up at the sound of his voice, straightening his back and letting his arms drop away from his face— only to reveal a very bloody nose and multiple scrapes along his cheeks. _Holy_— "What happened to you," he asks, rushing forward to inspect the damage, his hands instantly roaming over Hiro's face and neck.

"I'm fine," Hiro swats his hands away, dropping his knees so he's sitting correctly. Tadashi looks at him skeptically; Hiro scowls in response.

"You know him, Tadashi?" Fred leans over them, his shaggy blond hair brushing against his shoulder as he peers at Hiro. Hiro bows his head, and Tadashi can just barely see his fingers tightening their grip on the swing. He looks distinctly uncomfortable at having an audience.

Tadashi pats his knee soothingly before twisting to glance up at Fred. "Yeah," he says. "This is Hiro. Umm— would you mind letting the others know that we're not being attacked? I think Wasabi was about to have a panic attack. We'll be in to join you guys in a few minutes."

"Sure," Fred shrugs. He ruffles Hiro's hair before skipping back into the house. Hiro visibly relaxes when he leaves, his back sinking against the swing.

"So," Tadashi starts, letting the word hang between them, "are you going to tell me what you're doing here? You know it's the middle of the night, right?"

Hiro grimaces, "It's not like I have school in the morning or anything."

Tadashi crosses his arms, unimpressed by the way Hiro completely avoided his question. And while he is right in saying that he doesn't have school in the morning— because the little genius graduated _months_ ago— that doesn't mean that thirteen year olds should be roaming around in the middle of the night. On any night. "That doesn't answer the question."

"Maybe I just wanted to drop in for a visit," he leans forward on his palms and his lips stretch into a cheeky smile. The effect is more than a little ruined by the sticky dried blood around his nose. Some of it appears to have dribbled down to stick to his chin.

His stomach lurches at the sight and the thought of what— _who_— might have put it there. "You didn't ring the doorbell."

Hiro bows his head, squirming in his seat. A tiny blush runs up his neck and paints his cheeks. "I thought you might be busy— or asleep. Or something."

Tadashi sighs, leaning forward to run his hand through Hiro's hair. There's an obvious bump near his temple. "And you're all beat up because…?"

He flinches under his hand, looking up through his fringe. "I tried building rocket skates again and ran into a wall?"

"_Hiro_," he crosses his arms in front of his chest, unamused. "Try again."

The boy in question balks, screwing his eyes shut as he reaches into his pocket to reveal a small controller, followed by a doll-sized robot.

"Bot-fighting, again!" Tadashi makes a frustrated noise, standing up and beginning to pace in front of the swing. He feels like a disappointed sibling— the worried kind that isn't quite sure what to do about the decisions of their younger brother. "You graduated high school when you were thirteen, and _this _is what you're doing?"

Hiro straightens up in the swing, wincing a little as he moves to cross his legs. "It's not _that_ bad, Tadashi. Really."

"Uh huh," Tadashi deadpans, staring down at him. Hiro fidgets in his seat. "Bot-fighting is illegal; you're gonna get yourself arrested!"

"Bot-fighting is _not_ illegal," he shoots back. "_Betting_ on bot fights— that's illegal."

Hiro moves to stand up from the swing, but his knees buckle under him. Tadashi catches him before he can fall, his arms wrapping around him and hauling him back up to his feet. "Fine then," he says. He presses his forehead against Hiro's; big, chocolate brown eyes stare up at him. "Not arrested. You're gonna get yourself killed."

Hiro looks away, turning his head and biting his bottom lip. He doesn't say anything, and Tadashi just sighs, lowering him back down to the swing. He crouches down in front of him so that his face is just barely even with his knees. It's always better to give Hiro the most advantageous position during arguments. It makes him feel comfortable, but, more importantly, it makes him more honest.

"Where are you hurt?"

Hiro slumps forward, pressing against Tadashi's knee with his foot. His trainers are filthy and they leave a tiny brown shoeprint in their wake. "It's not that bad," he mumbles. "Just my nose."

"Just your nose," Tadashi repeats skeptically. "Uh huh— and what about the scratches on your face?" He reaches up to run his finger along one of them.

He scrunches his nose, wincing just slightly at the action and pushing the hand away. "I tripped on some garbage in one of the alleys— don't look at me like that— I _actually_ tripped. We can't all be graceful like you."

Tadashi laughs— a short and startled sort of sound— at the unexpected compliment. Hiro scowls at him, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Okay, okay," he soothes, "I'm surprised you stopped here then."

A dark red blush runs up Hiro's neck until it's painted his ears bright red. He reaches out to grip the swing, just barely toeing the ground with one of his feet. Tadashi raises an eyebrow at him and he tenses. "I may or may not have really messed up my ankle and not been able to walk all the way home…," he breathes, bowing his head until his hair's in his eyes.

Tadashi blinks up at him before groaning, "Which foot is it?"

"The right one."

He holds his hand out and Hiro carefully slides his foot into it. The weight of it is substantial, but Tadashi's still startled by how thin it is. He's much taller than the four year old he once was, but Tadashi's not entirely sure that he's gained any width over the last nine years. It's strangely upsetting, and he vaguely wonders if he should have a talk with Cass about the benefits of high carb diets. Or about the bot-fighting.

He's horribly afraid that he's going to get a call from her about someone finding Hiro's body in a back alley. Beaten and bloodied and—

He doesn't like to think about it.

"Does this hurt," he asks, wrapping his hand around the area where Hiro's shoe covers his ankle. The startled hiss and the faint jerk of the leg he's holding is enough of an answer. Tadashi shakes his head at the response, carefully unwrapping his hand and pulling Hiro's shoelaces loose. Once he has them untied, he slides Hiro's shoe off his foot. Hiro whimpers when it glides over his ankle.

And Tadashi nearly does too when he sees it, sucking in a breath. "_Holy_— Hiro, can you even still move it?" Hiro tilts his foot weakly in response, scrunching up his nose as he looks up toward the night sky. "Okay, so not broken, but— this is really bad."

"It's not _that_ bad," Hiro retorts, trying to pull away.

Tadashi lets him, standing up and brushing off his jeans. "Not that bad," he deadpans back at him.

Hiro grimaces, "It _wasn't_ that bad when I fell. But then I had to run on it for a little while and you don't exactly live close to the bot-fighting epicenter, you know? It's probably just swollen— or something." He twists it around in a short circle as if to prove his point.

Tadashi crosses his arms, his shoulders straightening and pulling at the muscles on his back. "You're lucky it's not broken."

"No," Hiro slumps back in his seat, "I'd be _lucky_ if I wasn't hurt at all. Lucky is getting away scot-free." He pouts, "I didn't even get to keep the money."

"Unbelievable." Tadashi blinks at him incredulously; Hiro doesn't even look slightly ashamed. "When are you going to start doing something with that big brain of yours? You're smarter than this."

"What? Go to college like _you_? So people can tell me stuff I already know?"

"Yes," Tadashi pushes forward, running a hand through his hair. School is not an easy topic for Hiro. Tadashi knows that his high school experiences weren't in any way pleasant; he also knows that Hiro didn't even tell him the worst of it. But, at the same time, school is something that Hiro _needs_ and probably even wants— not that he would ever willingly admit it. "I'm not saying you need to go where I went or do what I did, but it'll be better for you than bot-fighting. And you _might_ even learn something new."

Hiro scowls at him, "I _like_ bot-fighting."

"And I _like_ knowing you're _safe_ and _sound_," Tadashi responds.

Silence stretches between them like a palpable weight. Hiro squirms under his gaze, his face still caked in dried blood. He reaches up to pick at it, scraping his blunt nails against the places that have congealed and solidified. Tadashi assumes that it itches. And it needs to come off. If his face stays like that, the blood might not come off as easily with a little bit of soap and warm water and he'll likely irritate the scratches on his cheeks if he has to scrub it off. He doesn't want that.

He sighs and opens his mouth, ready to give in and take Hiro inside because they need to wrap his ankle and get him cleaned up— but Hiro cuts him off, looking up at him with those big brown eyes of his. "If I go to college— _your _college— would I be able to see you more often," he asks. His face turns bright red and Tadashi's not entirely sure why this time.

"Well, yeah," he says, furrowing his brows. "I'm just an assistant professor now, but I still teach most of the introductory robotics courses. You'd probably end up in at least one of my classes."

Hiro pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, "So I'd get to spend more time with you?"

"Probably."

And then Hiro looks up at him, all big brown eyes and fluffy black hair. "I'll think about it. Going to your nerd school, I mean."

Tadashi's also not entirely sure why his heart throbs in his chest.

* * *

The next morning, Tadashi wakes up with Hiro plastered against his side on the lounge chair, one of his legs tangled with his own and Tadashi's old shirt sliding down his shoulder. The superhero marathon from last night is still playing on the TV and his friends are in varying states of disarray littered around his living room, with the exception of Honey Lemon, who he's sure is currently running around his kitchen in an effort to make breakfast.

Early riser. He's envious.

Carefully, he tries to untangle himself from under Hiro's limbs without waking the boy. The bag of ice from last night— early this morning?— is nothing but water now, and it falls to the floor with a wet popping sound. He groans without even looking down because he knows it just burst open and the wet spot on the carpet is going to take ages to dry.

Hiro scrunches his face up at the noise and burrows further into his side. "It's too early," he mumbles sleepily, his voice a little groggy and muffled by Tadashi's clothes.

Tadashi chuckles in response, running his hand up Hiro's back until it rests on the top of his head. He runs his fingers through the knots there, relishing the way the tangles seemingly part for him. "Sorry. You can go back to sleep. Honey's up, so breakfast will probably be ready soon, but you can go back to one of the bedrooms if you want. I'll take you home later— after I call your aunt and let her know you're here, just in case she didn't get the message you left on the machine last night."

Hiro lets out a long sigh against his skin before letting himself pull away from Tadashi and sinking down into the chair, "That sounds nice."

"What does? Sleep?" Tadashi pushes himself up and stretches his arms above his head. His back pops beautifully.

"Breakfast."

Tadashi snorts, leaning down to ruffle his hair again. Hiro rolls to his side and tugs the hem of Tadashi's shirt down so it doesn't bunch up around his stomach. "I'll go ask Honey when it'll be ready."

"Aye, aye, captain," Hiro snuggles into the arm of the chair, pressing his nose against the fabric as he curls into a tight ball.

He smiles at the sight, shaking his head before turning toward the kitchen. He can just barely see Honey reaching for the plates on one of the top shelves. Carefully, he tiptoes over Fred, who somehow ended up sprawled on his stomach, half under the coffee table and half in the space between the table and the couch. Wasabi is asleep sitting up on the sofa, taking up minimal space, while GoGo is stretched across it. Tadashi smirks when he passes them— at least she looks comfortable.

"Hey, Tadashi?"

He stops at the voice, turning back toward the chair. Hiro's sitting up now, his bottom lip stuck between his teeth. "Yeah?"

"I thought about it," he says plainly.

Tadashi blinks in response because he is not a morning person and there's a layer of fog over his brain. "Thought about what?"

Hiro groans and flops back against the chair, rolling so his back is facing him, "I thought about going to your nerd school. And I'm gonna go, okay?"

Tadashi smiles for the rest of the day.

* * *

**And thus we have part four. Poor Tadashi- Hiro isn't getting any easier to handle as he gets older. **

**I ended up dedicating most of this section to dialogue practice (because dialogue is obviously the devil or my kryptonite or something), so I'd love to hear your thoughts on the character interactions in this part. Or anything else, really. **

**Production: Part five will be posted on the 12th. **

**Reviews are welcomed and responded to! I'd love to hear your thoughts! **


	5. The Boy Who Burns Bright Red

**Happy Sunday~ **

**Also, small warning: This is where the Hidashi starts really coming in, so if you're not in to that... well, you've been duly warned.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this work. All characters belong to Disney/Marvel.**

* * *

The red pen glides over the paper. A mark goes over problem eight; another scribbles through question ten. Tadashi groans audibly at the sight, tapping the utensil against the counter at random intervals as he stares down at the ruined test. He sighs as he writes the failing grade in the top corner, circling it once, twice, three times for added effect. He then places it on top of the pile of failed papers that are taking over the space to his left.

The papers with a passing mark are on the right; those with a failing grade are on the left. The stack on his right is thin and orderly, while the pile on his left is a hodgepodge of eraser burns and red ink. Advanced Robotics is a difficult course, but Tadashi's beginning to think that his students just don't try, with the way they prattle on and on and get caught on simple concepts that should have been taught during their introductory courses.

Either that or he's just an awful teacher.

He lets out another groan at the thought, running his hands down his face to wipe away the exhaustion as he balances the kitchen stool on its back two legs precariously. His back pops pleasantly when he moves, his joints stiff from hunching forward for the past couple of hours.

"Is that a hernia or are you just that unhappy to see me?"

Tadashi blinks, smiling lazily as he looks away from the midterms in front of him. Hiro's standing by the threshold that separates the kitchen from the living room, his backpack hanging off his shoulder. His hair is the same black bird's nest it always is, but his face is a little flushed, like he ran all the way here from the campus a couple blocks away. A quick glance at the clock assures Tadashi that he did— it's only been twenty minutes since he got out of classes for the day.

"Hey, you," he greets, stretching his neck and righting his stool. "I didn't hear you come in."

Hiro shrugs, letting his bag drop to the floor unceremoniously. He kicks it against the wall just barely out of the walkway. "I used my key. Figured you might be busy."

"I'm never too busy for you," Tadashi chuckles, idly propping his head up with his hand, his elbow firmly planted against the countertop. And Hiro does that thing he started doing a year or so ago, where his face turns bright red and he looks at the nearest inanimate object with a scowl. This time, it's the half empty coffeepot by the sink.

Tadashi isn't entirely sure what causes this particular reaction, as it always seems quite random to him, but he's grown used to it. Besides, he likes this side of Hiro— the sweet, embarrassed side that reminds him of the twelve year old that would shyly ask him to pick him up from school.

"Sap," Hiro says plainly, eyes still focused on the coffeepot. His cheeks are just beginning to regain their normal, tannish color.

"Ah, you wound me," Tadashi holds his hand to his heart in mock hurt. He receives a glance and a derisive little snort for his efforts. He counts it as a win, though he's not entirely sure what he's competing for. "What are you doing here anyway? It's Tuesday. I figured you'd go straight to the labs once you got out of class."

Hiro makes a face at him, scrunching up his nose. He shuffles his feet against the linoleum floor before shrugging his shoulders with a little shake of his head. "I wanted lunch," he eventually says.

Tadashi barks out a laugh because this happens fairly often and he already knows where this conversation's headed. But that's fine. He doesn't really mind. "No. You wanted me to _take_ you to lunch."

A slightly sheepish, gap-toothed smile more than confirms his suspicions. "Well, since you're _offering_, I'm not gonna say no. That would be rude."

"Terribly," he laughs, shuffling the ungraded midterms in front of him until they form a neat stack. "Your stomach is going to have to wait a few minutes, though. I want to finish these before we go anywhere."

Hiro sighs, and Tadashi can feel the countertop dip where the boy leans against it. It's old and he's been meaning to replace it for months now. "How long is that going to take?"

"Longer with you distracting me." He laughs under his breath at the huff he receives in return, his eyes going back to the stack of paper he's been working his way through for most of the morning. He doesn't have to look to know that Hiro is pouting, scowling at him with those big brown eyes of his narrowed. Tadashi's seen the expression before and he's more than memorized it.

Hurriedly, because Hiro isn't in the least bit patient and it's likely all his fault for indulging him when he was little, Tadashi brings the red pen back to the tests and begins checking each question. There are only ten— which is short for a midterm, but he doesn't believe his students would have benefited from more questions— and it doesn't take him long to move on to the next, his red pen scratching marks here and there and writing out a barely passing grade at the top. He stops at the next paper in the stack, eyes rising slightly from where he's hunched when he sees the name almost illegibly scrawled across the front.

_Hiro Takachiho_, the paper says. The owner of the name doesn't seem to notice that his work is being graded, his scrawny frame still leaning against the countertop, his eyes watching the clock. Tadashi can just barely hear his foot tapping against the floor.

Well, then. If Hiro doesn't care, than neither does he.

Tadashi goes back to the paper, lips quirking a bit as he scans it with his pen. The problems are answered flawlessly, which he doesn't find in the least bit surprising. Quietly, he writes the perfect mark across the top, looping the zeros to look like smiley faces. He grins at the sight, glancing upwards to make sure Hiro still isn't looking. He isn't.

Carefully, he moves to place it in the correct pile, stopping when he sees a small arrow at the bottom of the page prompting him to turn it over. He takes a moment to cautiously look up again, and then flips it over upon finding that Hiro has moved away from the counter and is currently raiding his fridge for something to drink with his back to him.

He stares intently at the comic strip that takes up the entire back of the page, eyes scanning the small speech bubbles. And then he laughs, long and hard. Hiro, it seems, drew him a series of pictures wherein his graduate project, Baymax, diagnosed him as a nerd.

It was apparently quite fatal.

"Something funny," Hiro asks, turning away from the fridge with a can of soda clutched in his hand.

Tadashi holds up the comic in explanation, titling his head slightly to the side. "I am the _least_ nerdy, I'll have you know."

Hiro scoffs like he's choking. "Grading papers makes you laugh. And you wear cardigans. I hate to break it to you, _Professor_, but you're a total nerd."

"Oh," he questions with a little lilt at the end, "I ride a bike— a motorbike. That's not nerdy."

"No, GoGo rides a bike. You ride a moped," Hiro corrects, setting his soda to the side so he can lean over the counter conspiratorially. "Which is just sad, by the way. You're twenty-seven."

"You like my moped," Tadashi responds defensively, setting the comic to the side and crossing his arms over his chest. It's not his fault that the insurance is cheaper. "And my cardigans," he adds as an afterthought. "You used to play dress up in them. Face it, you like me."

Hiro blushes again, his ears turning a rather endearing shade of red as he lowers his forehead to the counter. "You're unbelievable," he mumbles into the laminate.

Tadashi reaches out to ruffle his hair, frowning lightly when that seems to make Hiro's ears turn an even darker shade of red. He doesn't understand that reaction. His frown deepens when Hiro shrinks further into the counter. "I'm sorry," he says, completely unsure of what he's apologizing for.

Hiro glances up through his bangs, his big brown eyes slightly narrowed. And Tadashi is vaguely reminded of the time that four year old Hiro told him that dragons weren't real. "Completely impossible," he elaborates. "A one hundred percent _unbelievable_ human being."

Tadashi just blinks at him, extracting his fingers from his hair. He opens his mouth to say something, but his jaw closes with a snap of its own accord when he finds that he doesn't have anything _to_ say. He knows Hiro. He _prides_ himself on knowing Hiro— the way he solves problems, the way he reacts to different situations, the various facial expressions he makes— but lately, there have been all of these little things that he just doesn't understand.

At first, Tadashi had just thought it was puberty that was making Hiro act so weirdly. And to some extent, it had to be. He could easily blame Hiro's mood swings on the different hormones involved in the transition into adulthood, like the way he would fluctuate from elated one minute to absolutely furious the next. But it was harder to explain away some of the other things, like the way that Hiro's face would turn bright red at the strangest times or the way he would just blurt things out that didn't make any sense to him. It was all becoming terribly confusing.

And sometimes, he wishes that Hiro had never started growing up. But one look at his scrawny frame and almond-shaped eyes always has him changing his mind.

Hiro pushes away from the counter and lets out a long, drawn out sigh. "Can we just—," he makes a frustrated sort of noise, resting his hand under his bangs to lift up the fringe, "Can we just go get lunch? Please?"

"Ooh, lunch sounds amazing."

Tadashi watches Hiro's head turn before he does the same. Honey Lemon stands in the doorway, dressed impeccably in her signature yellow dress and plain white stockings. Her hands are carefully patting at her honey blonde hair with one of his spare towels. Tadashi smiles at the sight, "You slept for a while."

She responds with a lilting sort of laugh, "I _was_ up late."

Hiro glances back and forth between the two of them, blinking before a frown pulls at his lips. "You _slept_ here," he says, staring at Honey with eyes that are not quite narrowed. Something in his tone sounds accusatory and Tadashi's not sure he likes it.

"Yes, she did," he answers pointedly, crossing his arms in what he hopes is a reprimand. That was rude and while he lets Hiro get away with a lot of things, being impolite to people is not something he tolerates, especially when his rudeness is directed towards one of his friends. "I _invited_ her to."

Hiro pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and bows his head, his fingers knotting together. "Oh," he mumbles to the floor. Tadashi raises an eyebrow at him, trying to figure out why he seems so upset.

Honey clears her throat from the doorway, "Tadashi's just being nice. He offered me his spare room while my apartment complex is being fumigated." She steps farther into the room and squeezes Hiro's shoulder. Tadashi isn't sure why, but it seems vaguely reassuring.

"The spare room," Hiro reiterates, shuffling the toe of his trainers along the floor. He doesn't look up.

Tadashi nearly asks him what's wrong, but Honey drops the towel from her hands and makes her way farther into the kitchen. "Of course. Now, how about I make us all lunch," she offers, reaching into his freezer.

"Okay. Thanks," Hiro shrugs his shoulders before grabbing his bag from the threshold and disappearing into the living room. He doesn't look at him as he passes by and Tadashi can just barely hear the television turn on a few moments later.

"That was mean, Tadashi," Honey drops a bag of frozen chicken on the counter, careful to avoid the piles of paper that are still littering his space. Her voice is as sweet as it always is, but her lips are set in a thin line, that ever-present smile gone.

He blinks at her, "What was?"

She lets out a short sigh, and frowns at him. He didn't think she could make that expression. "Hiro has a _crush_," she says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world, leaning against the counter on her elbows.

"What," Tadashi blanches, glancing toward the living room and then back at her so quickly that his neck pops. "On who? You?"

"Oh, Tadashi. You're _hopeless_. It's not me," she pinches the bridge of her nose, looking at him with those sincere green eyes of hers that are just barely muted by her magenta-rimmed glasses. "Hiro has a crush on _you_."

He blinks and his breath catches in his throat, "That's not— Why would he— oh." Oh, oh, _oh_.

Oh, no.

* * *

**And thus we have part five. And Tadashi knows~! (Through Honey Lemon because he was never going to figure it out on his own). **

**Again, most of this section was dedicated to dialogue practice, so I'd love to hear your thoughts on the character interactions in this part. Or anything else, really. Practice makes perfect, but only with some feedback. **

**Production: The last part will be posted on the 19th.**

**Comments are welcomed and responded to! I'd love to hear your thoughts!**


	6. The Boy Who Always Wins

**Happy Sunday! Welcome to the last installment of this weird babysitter AU that really didn't have very much to do with babysitting. I hope you enjoy~! =)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this work. All characters belong to Disney/Marvel.**

* * *

"Burning the midnight oil, Mr. Hamada?"

Tadashi blinks over his computer screen, his fingers pausing on the keys. The hallway outside his office is dark and his eyes are out of focus from staring at his monitor all night, but he can easily make out Doctor Callaghan's figure standing just outside his door. Despite how tired and weary he is from calculating the end of the semester grades (why are his students so bad at making paper deadlines?), he can't stop the genuine smile that stretches across his lips at the sight of his older colleague.

"As are you, Professor," he responds, pushing his chair slightly to the side so that he can see him more clearly.

His old mentor laughs, stepping into the room. His charcoal gray slacks crinkle slightly when he walks, their hems pushing against his dark brown oxfords. "I was just leaving when I noticed your light was still on. You're a bit young to be spending your Friday nights here."

"I'm not as young as I used to be," Tadashi sighs a little wistfully. He rolls his shoulders as he speaks; he can feel his words in the way his scapula pops uncomfortably against his spine.

"It's a little early to be saying that," Doctor Callaghan smiles, crossing his arms good-naturedly. "You're not even thirty yet, are you?"

"Not quite. Just a few more months until the big 'three oh,'" Tadashi grimaces. He's not looking forward to it. He's never really thought about age as a limit, but he's always been under the impression that he would be a little farther along in life by the time he was thirty. And while he has his dream job and he absolutely loves it, he's always just assumed he would have a family by now— maybe not a child, but at least a significant other to spend the holidays with. He shakes his head minutely at the thought; like Cass would ever let him miss out on her holiday feasts.

Besides, Hiro fills the void fairly well. Too well, if he's being honest with himself.

He seldom is.

"The big 'three oh,'" Doctor Callaghan reiterates with a chuckle. "What I wouldn't give to be that young again— I'm over twice that now. The big 'six five,'" he shakes his head and Tadashi can feel the flush settling on his cheeks. Sometimes, it's easy to forget that Robert Callaghan is as old as he is, especially with the way he moves around like a man half his age. His hair is solid gray and his face is a mix of wrinkles and laugh lines, but his eyes are just as sharp as one would expect from the man who reshaped the robotics industry. "Well, anyway, it's time for this old man to be getting home. You should do the same, Mr. Hamada."

"I'll be out in a bit," Tadashi smiles, leaning back in his chair. "Have a good night, Professor."

"You do the same," he responds, turning on his heel to retreat through the open office door. "Oh, and send Mr. Takachiho my congratulations."

"Hiro," Tadashi questions, tilting his head to the side in confusion. "Congratulations for what?"

Callaghan stops at the threshold into the hallway, turning back to him with one eyebrow raised. "About the job offer from Krei Tech," he explains. "It's not every day that someone his age gets an offer to run a branch overseas. He really has pushed the boundaries of robotics during his time here."

"Oh," Tadashi says dumbly, tapping his fingers against the top of his desk. He doesn't remember Hiro telling him anything about applying to work at Krei Tech, and he _knows_ Hiro hasn't told him about being offered a job there. Overseas? Where overseas? Would he be far away or still close enough to visit? Tadashi doesn't know, and not knowing makes his heart sink into his gut. "I'll be sure to tell him then."

His lips stretch themselves into a stiff smile that immediately falls off his face when Doctor Callaghan turns away and begins his journey back down the hall. He glances at the clock on the wall— ten twenty-three already— and then towards his computer monitor where half a dozen spreadsheets are carefully arranged, with each of his students' names and grades listed alphabetically according to their class. He blinks at it, his fingers resting just over the keys, and he instantly knows that he won't be getting any more work done tonight because—

_Hiro_.

Hiro might be leaving— _is _probably leaving because no one turns down an offer from Krei Tech— and he hasn't talked to him about it.

Was he even planning to? Was Hiro going to tell him at all or was he just going to leave? Hiro's always been a free spirit. He's always done what he wanted to do, with or without anyone else's approval, and Tadashi wouldn't put it passed him to leave without a word. But, they've been in each other's lives for nearly thirteen years now. Tadashi's watched him grow up, and he's never once thought of the possibility of Hiro not being around, of him not being here in San Fransokyo where he can keep an eye on him. Tadashi's never thought of Hiro not being within arm's reach, just a phone call away.

And what if something happened to him while he was overseas? What if he got sick or hurt? Would he have anyone to call that was nearby? Anyone to take care of him? Hiro's almost an adult now— seventeen years old and more than proud of it— but he's never been the best at making friends and the idea of Hiro all alone in some new place is almost enough to send Tadashi into a panic.

He's far more attached to Hiro than he ever wanted to be.

The realization is more than a little horrifying.

Tadashi shakes his head at the thought, letting out a long sigh as he pushes back his chair and runs one of his hands down the side of his face. He's tired and he knows that he shouldn't be thinking about such things right now. He'll talk to Hiro about it the next time he sees him, and if Hiro wants to leave San Fransokyo, he'll do his best to help him plan and prepare even if he doesn't want him to leave. Because that's his job. He is the babysitter turned friend who needs to make sure that Hiro's happy. And if being here no longer makes him happy, then Tadashi will just have to wish him the best.

With that in mind, he saves his progress and shuts down his computer before grabbing his things and locking up his office for the night. It's late and Doctor Callaghan is right; he needs to go home. Quietly, he makes his way out of the building, the chilly spring air biting at his skin through his cardigan and clearing the fog that's settled in his head.

The San Fransokyo Institute of Technology campus is both eerie and gorgeous at night. The tall buildings let off a metallic glow that causes the normally luscious green grass to appear brown and distorted. The numerous hills that litter the property seem to cause the concrete path to wind on endlessly at night, snaking in each direction and moving from building to building.

Over the last several years, Tadashi's heard many of his students complain about being stuck on campus after dark, but he's never quite understood them. He loves the silent walk to his car each night when the lights are out and the city around the property is nothing but background noise. He loves the sound of his shoes hitting the red wooden bridge over the pond at the center of campus, the way it echoes in his ears with the water streaming on below. He even loves the way the windows let off that mirror-like sheen in the darkness, their lights long since snuffed out.

Except…

Tadashi stops outside the Ito Ishioka Robotics Lab, his lips pulling downward into a light frown. The building itself is a sleek dome that glows like the rest of the campus' buildings, eerie and blue and metallic, but there's a light on in one of the offices in the back. He can just barely see it from his position on the sidewalk outside— and he realizes with a start that the light is coming from _his_ lab space. He doesn't use it as often as he used to because teaching has started to take up more of his time than he ever expected it would, but he has _years_ of work in there. His original Baymax prototype is in there, tucked away in the corner as a just in case, and his blood suddenly runs cold.

He rushes into the building, his bag banging against his side as he runs up the steps and pushes through the door. It's unlocked because students often need to get into the lab late at night, but the faculty labs are supposed to require an access key to open them and he's _sure _his is securely tucked away inside his bag. He rounds the corner, his high-tops sliding against the tile and knocking him slightly off balance as he grabs at the door to his lab. The little keycard receptacle is flashing green, meaning that the door is unlocked and anyone can be inside and—

Tadashi surges through the door.

He's greeted with the most undignified yelp he's ever heard and the sound of a body hitting the floor. A rolling chair rams against the wall and big brown eyes pop up over the table in the center of the room. His breath catches in his throat.

"_You—_," Hiro gasps, pushing himself up on his elbows, "You nearly gave me a heart attack! What the hell was that?"

Tadashi blinks at him. And then he laughs, long and hard, because it's nothing. Nothing's wrong. It's just Hiro. Hiro who's looking at him like he's lost his mind, those doe brown eyes of his slightly narrowed, his mop of black hair held out of his eyes with a laughable assortment of bobby pins. If not for those, he would look all grown up now; it's a sobering thought. "You gave _me_ the heart attack. It's the middle of the night! I saw the light on up here and I thought— I thought someone was trying to steal Baymax again."

"No," Hiro winces, biting the inside of his cheek. He glances at the corner of the room where Baymax's portable case lies, peaceful and undisturbed. It's a wonder he didn't wake him when he fell. "It's just me."

He sighs, leaning back against the wall. His arms cross over his chest, "What are you even doing here? And _how _exactly did you get in here?"

There's a short pause between them where Hiro's fingers twist guiltily around the sleeves of his hoodie and his cheeks burn bright red. Tadashi's chest constricts at the sight.

"I may or may not have made a copy of your access card at the beginning of the semester while you were sleeping," Hiro breathes, smiling sheepishly at him over the table. The flush in his cheeks rises to paint his ears, just barely visible where the pins hold his hair back.

Tadashi lets out a shaky exhale, running a hand through his hair, an easy smile turning up the corners of his lips to let Hiro know that he isn't mad. It's a blatant disregard for school policy and it could easily get Hiro expelled, but he's graduating tomorrow and Tadashi… He's never been able to stay mad at him— for anything. "That still doesn't explain what you're doing here."

Hiro shrugs, "Nothing really." He grabs the chair that rolled into the wall and takes a seat, pulling his legs up to sit with his legs crossed underneath him. Tadashi wants to tell him that that is not the correct way to sit in a chair, but— Hiro's not a child anymore. He needs to stop coddling him so much.

He doesn't want Hiro to resent him.

"Nothing," he mimics with a little lilt at the end. "Doesn't look like nothing." And it doesn't, not with the way that Hiro looks away from him, gazing out the window that reveals nothing but the darkness of the campus and the faded lights from downtown San Fransokyo in the distance.

"It's really nothing, Tadashi," he reiterates. He carefully maneuvers one of his legs up so he can rest his chin on his knee. For a moment, he continues to stare out the window, but then he turns and those big brown eyes of his are looking straight at him. All at once, Tadashi realizes just how grown up Hiro really is. He's still lithe and scrawny, with skinny shoulders and round cheeks, but his eyes show a confidence and a steadiness that he's never really noticed before. They still have that spark— the light of creativity that he knows he'll never grow tired of seeing— but the childlike wonder of the four year old he once knew is gone. Hiro no longer has the eyes of a child. "I'm just thinking."

"Thinking," Tadashi questions, pushing himself off the wall to walk closer to the table. He leans against it; the surface shifts just slightly under his weight. "Want to tell me what about?"

Hiro shrugs again, tilting his head back to gaze at the ceiling. The chair rolls minutely as he moves. "Nothing important."

"So, let me get this straight," he rests his head on his palm, "You're sitting in my office— which you're not supposed to be in— in the middle of the night, doing nothing and thinking about nothing important. Uh huh. I don't buy it." Hiro looks back at him and Tadashi lets out a sigh, his shoulders sagging. "Thinking about the offer from Krei Tech, perhaps?"

Hiro makes a face at him, his nose scrunching up ever so slightly, "You heard about that?"

"Yeah," Tadashi breathes, his lips pulling themselves into a light frown of their own accord. So Hiro really hadn't been planning on telling him at all. "Doctor Callaghan sends his congratulations."

"He would."

"From what I heard, it's a great opportunity." His words come out bitter without him meaning them to. He shakes his head and swallows passed the lump in his throat. No. This is for Hiro. He needs to be supportive. "So, where will you be stationed?"

"Where _will _I be stationed," Hiro questions. Doe brown eyes blink at him before his lips set themselves into a tight scowl. "Nowhere. I already declined the offer."

Tadashi nearly chokes on his relief. "You declined it?"

"Yeah," Hiro responds plainly, twisting so he's sitting correctly, both of his feet firmly planted on the floor. "I mean, yeah— running the Hokkaido branch would probably be pretty cool but— it'd also be pretty miserable too, you know? I like it here and Aunt Cass would miss me and, well, _you're _here too, so there's really no reason for me to leave, right?"

When he finishes, his face is painted an alarming shade of red and his knuckles are white from the force of his grip on the bottom of the chair. And he's looking right at him, those big brown orbs of his staring at him with so much sincerity that Tadashi just _melts_.

When Honey Lemon first told him that Hiro had a crush on him, Tadashi was horrified. It was inappropriate; he used to be his babysitter. And on top of that, there were nearly twelve full years between them and Tadashi didn't think that that sort of age difference was healthy, not when Hiro should have technically still been in high school at the time.

To prevent Hiro from liking him further (and to prevent himself from giving in because he's never been one to deny Hiro anything), Tadashi tried to set certain boundaries between the two of them. Whenever they went out, someone else accompanied them. Hiro wasn't allowed to stay at his house over the weekend unless Tadashi could convince someone else to stay too. But he was too obvious about it— and his boundaries ended up hurting Hiro way more than they were helping him. Tadashi hadn't been able to bear it. He'd ended up just hoping that it went away on its own.

But it didn't.

And Hiro's feelings had just grown more and more obvious over the last two years.

Which is fine because they're harmless, but not fine at all because Tadashi's found himself _liking _them far more than he should.

He's always been attached to Hiro. Always. It wasn't until recently that he realized just how much.

He knows that a relationship between the two of them would still be inappropriate on so many levels, but he can recognize the fact that Hiro isn't the same four year old child he used to babysit anymore. He's still young— _too _young— but he's smart enough to make his own decisions. And over the last year, after Hiro shot up those last couple of inches and started pushing his hair out of his face, Tadashi's found himself wishing that Hiro's little crush _wouldn't_ just disappear.

He's found himself wishing that maybe— maybe, just maybe— the two of them could actually be together, that they could be a couple.

But he knows it's wrong; he has to show self-control.

"Yeah," Tadashi coughs in an attempt to hide the fact that his heart is lodged somewhere in his throat. "I'm here."

"And you're not planning on leaving, so there's no reason for me to leave either," Hiro nods to himself, tilting his head downward to stare at the porcelain tiles on the floor. He scuffs the toe of his shoe against one of them; a faint squeak follows.

"That's not—," he swallows thickly, running his hand through his hair. "You shouldn't limit yourself because of me. There's a whole world out there."

Hiro's shoulders hunch inward. A long stretch of silence passes before— "Do you want me to leave?"

He sounds small; Tadashi's gut twists. "That's not what I meant. I just don't want you to miss out on anything by staying here for my sake."

"It's not really for your—," he makes an exasperated sort of noise, pushing himself out of the chair and coming to stand on the other side of the table. He's still shorter than Tadashi by several inches, but they're closer to eye to eye than they've ever been, with Hiro leaning over the table and glaring at him, those doe brown eyes of his squinted. "You just don't get it," he says.

Tadashi swallows. "I don't—"

"I like you."

He blinks. This is not what he wants. If Hiro stays silent, Tadashi doesn't have to acknowledge it. He doesn't have to be the adult that hurts his feelings. He doesn't have to do something he doesn't want to do. "Hiro, I—"

"No," Hiro cuts him off again, pushing against the table with his palms. "I like you. I fucking _love _you— have been _in love _with you for years— and I _know_ you know. And I think— I think you like me too and you just won't admit it."

Hiro juts his chin out in defiance, those big brown eyes of his still staring straight at him. And Tadashi doesn't know what to say. He knows he needs to shut this down because it's gotten too far already and he needs to be the adult— and he wishes Hiro didn't push his hair back with those stupid bobby pins because this way he can see all the stubbornness and determination in Hiro's eyes and he doesn't know how to put a stop to this.

He doesn't know if he _wants _to.

"Tell me I'm wrong," Hiro demands, leaning impossibly close, his pelvis grinding against the table. "Tell me you want me to take the job in Hokkaido, that you _want_ me to leave."

"Hiro—"

"Tell me that's what you want and I'll do it. I'll leave San Fransokyo and I won't bother you anymore."

"This really isn't—"

"Tell me."

"I—," Tadashi sighs and he can feel Hiro's breath ghosting across his lips. He can see the way his endless eyelashes frame his eyes, the way his jaw tightens. And it hits him. For all Hiro's confidence and airs, he's scared. He's scared that Tadashi's going to tell him he's got it all wrong. He's scared of being rejected. And Tadashi knows instantly that he's lost this battle. He's never been one to deny Hiro anything; it's too late to start now. "I don't want you to leave," he swallows. "I want you to stay right here."

"With you," Hiro adds, his lips ghosting over Tadashi's, just barely there.

"With me," he affirms. The words feel liberating with the way they lighten the tension in his shoulders. Because his secret it out. He likes Hiro; he _loves _Hiro.

It's inappropriate and wrong and—

"_Good_."

Chapped lips press against his own— firm and inexperienced and confident. And suddenly, everything is Hiro. Just Hiro. His eyelashes tickle Tadashi's cheek and his nose bumps against Tadashi's own. One of his hands comes up to tug at the collar of Tadashi's shirt, pulling him down so he can catch his lips at a better angle. The position is uncomfortable with Tadashi's hips pressing into the table's edge and Hiro pulling him down by his neck, but something about it feels _right_. He doesn't want it to stop.

Hiro's lips move away with a horribly empty sort of sound and those beautiful brown eyes of his stare right at him. They're both breathless, even though the kiss only lasted a few precious seconds, but Tadashi instantly leans forward, pressing their lips together one, two, three more times, with chaste little pecks that fill the vacant space between them.

It's Hiro who pulls away completely, twisting just slightly so his face is out of reach. The smile that stretches across his lips is breathtaking; Tadashi wonders why he's been denying it for so long.

"Was that so hard," Hiro asks, teasing and light and the same Hiro that he's used to. The same Hiro that worries him like crazy and makes his heart melt in his chest.

Tadashi doesn't respond. He knows he doesn't need to; Hiro already knows he's won. He always does.

And for once, Tadashi really doesn't mind.

* * *

**And that's the end. It took him thirteen years, but at least Tadashi finally figured it out, yeah? (B̶u̶t̶ ̶r̶e̶a̶l̶l̶y̶,̶ ̶w̶h̶y̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶h̶a̶t̶e̶ ̶m̶e̶,̶ ̶H̶i̶r̶o̶?̶ ̶A̶l̶l̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶d̶o̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶w̶r̶i̶t̶e̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶.̶ ̶)**

**This isn't quite what I originally planned for the end of this, but after spending weeks on it, rewriting it multiple times, and editing it over and over again, it's kind of grown on me. I just hope it didn't end up disappointing any of you guys. **

**Because, really? You guys are awesome for sticking with this. I'm really glad that so many of you have enjoyed reading this series. And also, thank you. Thank you for reading and thank you for all the lovely reviews. I really appreciate it. **

**Production: Since this is done, I'm going to start working on some other projects. Currently, I have a few one-shots planned, as well as three or four chapter stories that I'm trying to plot out. Hopefully, it won't take me very long to get started on something new. **

**Reviews are welcomed and responded to! I'd love to hear your thoughts!**


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